


The Pipes, the Pipes are Calling

by HYPERFocused



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Challenge Response, Crack, Cracked Skulls, Gen, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse, braiiiins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1554845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All you zombies hide your faces. It's the time of the season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pipes, the Pipes are Calling

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: written 6/13/2007 for Zombie Day. A fate worse than undeath.

"Oh, this is _so_ unfair. Not once did I ever ask for this. I mean I wanted him to come back, but you know, ascended. Not like _this._." Rodney groused, even as he and John ran.

John was both repulsed by the creature that was chasing them, and amazed (and a little amused) that Rodney could grouse so eloquently even while fleeing for his life. That was what came from the training Teyla had put him through, and the stamina he'd built up accompanying John on runs through the city.

John didn't say anything. He just grabbed Rodney's elbow, and pulled him a little faster. They'd have time to talk later, after they were on the other side of Atlantis' newest citizen of uncertain life-signs.

Said citizen, once a relatively decent physician -- and a mediocre geneticist -- was now a member of the great undead, reanimated by a set of Ancient bagpipes. It was only the constant bleating of the pipes that kept Dr Beckett from eating anyone else's brains. They'd learned the hard way when Dr Kavanagh was his first victim. Nobody mourned overly over that, feeling he'd finally earned his keep.

"He's your friend, Rodney! Can't you do something about him? Talk to him, maybe? Tell him he can eat all the delicious Wraith he wants." John hoped they were safe for the moment. He shoved Rodney behind a decorative half-wall, and aimed for Carson's head. He hoped they were far enough to avoid both brain eating and bombs.

"Oh, that's great, Colonel. Either I get too close to him, and risk getting blown up -- exploding tumor, remember? Or I get too close to him while Chuck is taking a break from the music from _hell_. and my dead best friend _eats my brains!_. Do you have any idea what a colossal waste of resources that would be? Talk about your soft sciences."

"So why is it I'm "Oh, John!" when we're fucking, and "Damn it, Colonel" when we're in trouble?" John aimed a few more shots at the thing that used to be their doctor.

"Because it's the Colonel who's going to get us out of said trouble -- if I don't do it myself --, and I don't want to worry about what could happen to my John."

"I love you, too." John grabbed a quick kiss.

"Yeah. Ok, more shooting, and less inappropriate touching." But Rodney kissed him back anyway. Probably not a good idea since no one was supposed to know about them, but after the day they'd all had, John doubted they'd be the most interesting discussion on the menu. That is, assuming they survived being on the menu themselves.

Finally, Chuck could play no more. He gasped for breath, then screamed as Carson (really rather unintelligently even for a Zombie, since he'd never hear his lovely pipes again if he ate the piper) ambled over and chomped a chunk of Chuck's chewy cerebellum.

John was secretly glad, even as he let loose another round, to protect the man he loved. He liked Chuck-- always had -- but he'd rather risk an exploding tumor, or have his brains eaten by Zombies (and honestly, it wasn't such a stretch from Haggis to human brains), than hear another rendition of "Danny Boy".  



End file.
